It was a while before she realized they were replacement tapes for the answerphone on the desk. Suddenly she knew what to do. She swapped the cassette in the answerphone for one of the replacement tapes and dialled the house number on her mobile. The telephone beside the bed rang just twice, then Nadia’s voice on the answerphone could be heard in the study. After Nadia’s message and the bleeps, she switched the Dictaphone on and held the mobile against it. The recording quality of her copy was poorer than the original, but that didn’t bother her.
After that she had a look through the contents of the second drawer in the little cupboard. She didn’t find a list of telephone numbers but, right at the back, underneath an accumulation of odds and ends, there was an envelope which had been soaked in some dark liquid. The address was unreadable, all that could be made out was the sender: Nadia; the postmark: posted in August two years ago in Cologne; and a stamped message: Retour à l’expéditeur.
The envelope had been opened. In it were two sheets, handwritten, unfortunately in French, and also stained with the same dark liquid. The beginning was legible: Jacques mon chéri. That suggested to her an intimate letter to a lover. What was there to say that the dark-haired man at the airport was the first with whom Nadia had been unfaithful to her husband? The fact that the letter had been returned to sender could only mean that mon chéri had refused to accept delivery. In other words had terminated his affair with Nadia.
She took the two sheets back into the study. The computer had long since switched to standby, but pressing the space bar immediately reactivated the word-processor. She typed out everything in the letter that was legible. It fitted on one page, which she printed out.
Before continuing her search for the telephone number of the laboratory, she made herself something to eat, just a ready meal. Taking the plate back up to the study, she went through countless folders, hoping to find a list of telephone numbers. Everything that looked as if it might be a written document she sent to the printer, including the ninth letter with Philip Hardenberg’s best wishes. The addressee was called Maringer and was the one with the smallest sum on the Alfo Investment list. The rest consisted of reports on various, mostly foreign, companies with a positive assessment of their future prospects. She looked in vain for the three letters Nadia had sent her.
After about two hundred pages had piled up, the paper in the printer ran out. She took a large envelope from the desk drawer, addressed it to herself, put all the printed pages and the tiny cassette with her copy from the Dictaphone in it and, with a touch of irony, put Dieter Lasko as the sender. She couldn’t find any stamps, so she treated herself to: “postage to be paid by addressee”. There was too much paper to take in her handbag or any other way without Nadia noticing.
Next she used the mobile to dial the number of the hotel in Luxembourg to find out the name of the dark-haired man at the airport. A young woman answered and told her, in excellent German, that Frau Lasko had already checked out. She asked about the man accompanying Frau Lasko, claiming it was an extremely urgent business matter. The woman at reception knew nothing about a man. Frau Lasko had had a single room, she said. That wasn’t surprising for a married man on a business trip. But however much she insisted, the otherwise friendly receptionist refused to reveal the names of male guests in the nearby single rooms.
When Michael came back shortly after three, she was still going through the folders, hoping to find personal letters or anything else she could use to open his eyes. The window was open because of the odd smell from the printer. When she heard the car in the street, the cursor was highlighting something of which only Nadia knew the contents. But it was her last chance. She clicked on the file, at the same time watching the monitor as the garage door rose.
The screen showed an index card with a name, an address and a telephone number. That it was only Dr Reusch didn’t matter, for there were more cards behind it, with the top line visible. She clicked her way frantically through them and found Jacques. Down below, the door from the garage into the hall opened and shut. Even on the index card Jacques had no surname, but there was an address in Geneva and a mobile number, which she quickly noted down. A few more clicks. She found Philip, but she didn’t care a damn about Nadia’s employer. Michael’s voice came echoing through the house: “You up there, love?”
Love! In the early days of their marriage, Dieter had called her darling a few times, but only when they were making love, otherwise it was always Susanne. But Michael’s “love” wasn’t aimed at her, even if it did set her pulse racing. He came up the stairs.
“Yes,” she shouted, slipping the paper with Jacques’s mobile number in the envelope, which she hadn’t stuck down, and closing the card-index file. She changed the folder, trying to get back into word-processing, but she was in such a hurry her double click started up something else.
Michael appeared in the doorway. When she saw him her anger disappeared in a flash. At the same time she realized she would gain nothing by telling him who she was and what she was doing there. How could she expect him, after one single night, to accept a woman who had tried to make money out of deceiving him?
“We’re really up shit creek,” he said, coming over to her. “It is a virus. Kemmerling’s devastated. He had a crash half an hour after I left yesterday. It totally wiped his hard disk.” He gave a resigned smile.
She’d put the bulging envelope address-side-down on the desk. Michael merely glanced at it, bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Am I glad you said no.” He looked at the screen. “Have you still got some important stuff to do?”
She looked at it too. The screen had the boxes Nadia had given her to play with. Only in this file they were filled in. On the first line she read “Kogler’, followed by dates, figures and abbreviations. At the top was the file name: NTA. She looked up at him and smiled. “No. That’s it for today, otherwise my head’s going to burst.”
“Headache again?” he said with feigned sympathy.
“Splitting,” she said. “Can you do anything to get rid of it?”
“I’m pretty sure I can.”
His hand clasped her neck, squeezed it lightly, then proceeded down over her shoulder and rested for a few seconds on her left breast, which must have been slightly fuller than Nadia’s. It wasn’t apparent to the naked eye, only revealing its secret to the gentle pressure of a hand.
And Nadia’s husband liked that. Nadia’s husband also liked the fact that she hadn’t been smoking. He gave the desk a long hard look. Obviously he saw that the ashtray was missing and asked, “Have you managed to stick it out all day?”
She knew at once what he was talking about and beamed at him. “Yes, no problem.”
“Wow,” he said. “A day and a half already, you’re going to break your record. Anything special on the agenda?”
She shook her head. He drew her up from her chair. “So we can have a nice cosy evening together, just you and me.”
This time the kiss seemed to last an eternity, during which her skirt dropped to the floor and her blouse slipped off her shoulders. When nothing but her underwear was left, he said, “Let’s have a swim.”
“No.” He tried to pull her away but she resisted. The only arguments she could think of to explain her refusal were her make-up and hair.
He gave way. “OK, then I’ll make us a coffee, we’ll have a bite to eat and after that I’ll deal with your headache on dry land.” She nodded, relieved. He let go of her and went out. With practised fingers she got rid of NTA and shut down the computer. Then she quickly put her skirt and blouse back on and hurried downstairs.
The coffee machine was bubbling away in the kitchen. He’d taken the cups and saucers into the drawing room and was opening a packet of biscuits. “What do you think about going away for a few days?” he asked. “Kemmerling’s boat’s on Walcheren. If I ask him, I’m sure he won’t refuse.”
“I don’t know.” The idea of him spending a few a days away from it all with Nadia on Kemmer
ling’s boat almost made her sick.
He noted her dull tone of voice and gave her an encouraging smile. “Be brave, love. I know how hard it is. The first days are terrible, you feel like biting your fingernails down to the quick. But then it’s all right, believe me. I managed it and I’ll help you. I’ve plenty of time now. I have ways of taking your mind off it.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “The advantages of a virus. I don’t have to go into the lab until next Wednesday. Kemmerling’ll be there keeping an eye on the technician. He’s hoping he can pick up enough to get his own machine up and running again.”
She liked his casual tone. Dieter often used to go on in such a bombastic manner. For Dieter life in general and his profession in particular were deadly serious matters. Michael seemed to take things as they came. Of course, with a double doctorate and his income he could afford to do so. He tipped some biscuits out of the packet onto a plate, poured the coffee into a pot and took both into the drawing room. “So what’s it to be? A few days on the boat or something else?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated as she sat down in one of the comfortable chairs and watched him fill the cups. “Let’s discuss it tomorrow.”
“We’ll be on our way tomorrow.” He seemed to regard it as all settled.
“And what about Lilo’s party? You promised we’d go.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Nadia. You heard what Jo said. It’s by no means certain that Maiwald’ll come. Anyway, happy as I am to support young artists, one of his daubs is quite enough for me. As for Barlinkow, you can take the piss out of him another time. You’re surely not going to pass up a chance of four days on the boat just for that.”
Take the piss, she thought. Joachim Kogler had talked of her finding Barlinkow amusing. She sighed wearily. “Of course not. But I might have to go out for a short time. Helga said she’d ring and…” She picked up a chocolate biscuit, bit off a piece and felt she was going to choke on it.
He sat down opposite her in the other chair. There was a sharpness in his voice. “Then I’ll talk to her. A few hours a week is OK. But if you think you have to let Hardenberg tie you up every day and even monopolize your weekends, then I object. You know my opinion. Jo’s jackpot has done nothing to change that, on the contrary. If Hardenberg wants to extend his business, then let him see to it himself.”
At this point Nadia would certainly have reminded him who had financed his studies. She just nodded. Half an hour later he led her upstairs. He stopped in surprise when he opened the door and saw that nothing had changed in the television room. Then he nodded and smiled, went over to the shelves and put on some music. She let her skirt fall to the floor again, took off her blouse, sat down on the couch and stretched out her hands to him.
She didn’t entirely manage to switch off her thoughts and let herself be carried away. Despite that, it was good, and she was more aware than the previous night. She sensed that she confused him again. But she also sensed that he enjoyed it.
Shortly before five the mobile in the study put an end to the languorous mood. Their clothes were scattered round the room and they were lying on the floor among the cushions. From the stereo loudspeakers a man’s voice was crooning, “When a man loves a woman.” His hand was behind her head, gently, lazily playing with her hair. At the first ring his hand twitched, then closed firmly round the back of her neck. He drew her head to him, kissed her and murmured, “Let it ring. Think of your resolution. Stress is the last thing we need just now.”
In the study the mobile rang for the fourth and fifth time. “She’ll soon give up,” he whispered and kissed her again, holding the back of her neck in an iron grip. “Giving up really suits you. You taste much better and smell so good. I noticed that yesterday.”
It rang for the seventh and eighth time. She put her hands round his face and pushed him back a little. “At least let me tell her I’m not going.”
He let go of her. “But be quick about it.”
She nodded, got up, closed the door behind her and went, naked as she was, to the study.
“Why did you take so long?” Nadia asked indignantly. To go by the background noise, she was already at the airport.
“Hi, Helga,” she said.
“Is Michael there?”
“I’m sorry, Helga,” she said. “I know I promised, but I can’t make it today.”
“Does that mean Kemmerling’s there as well?” Nadia asked.
“No, I really can’t. My husband’s got a few days off. The lab computer’s got a virus. He wanted to work at home yesterday, now he’s glad I didn’t let him.”
“OK,” said Nadia. “Now see that you get away. Tell him you have to collect some documents from the office.”
The soft music suddenly grew louder as Michael appeared in the doorway.
“Is that music playing?” Nadia asked suspiciously.
“Well if I really have to,” she sighed. “OK, I’ll be there in an hour.”
Michael shook his head emphatically and came over to her. “Out of the question.” Before she could do anything about it, he’d grabbed the mobile. “Give my best wishes to Herr Hardenberg, Frau Barthel, and tell him my wife needs a few days’ rest. She is unavailable until next Thursday.” With a slight frown on his face he listened, then grinned. “She hung up.” He put the mobile back down on the desk and took her hand.
And for a moment she imagined what it would be like if she gave in. Nadia waiting at the airport, Nadia realizing she wasn’t coming. Nadia’s impotent fury. She’d have no choice but to go to Kettlerstrasse and spend until next Wednesday stuck in one-and-a-half rooms. She had the key and she could only come back home when she was certain Michael wasn’t there. But Nadia wouldn’t put up with that a second time.
With a long sigh she withdrew her hand. “I can’t leave her in the lurch. I did promise.” She switched her tone to enthusiastic and was amazed how well she did it. “You know what? I’ll fetch the documents and borrow Philip’s laptop again. I just have to do a few company analyses and I can just as easily do that on the boat.”
He exhaled loudly. “A holiday like that’s no holiday at all.” He shook his head in frustration. “You really do have a talent for putting a damper on things, Nadia. And just now I had the feeling…” He broke off with a gesture of exasperation, managing to look both disapproving and hurt at the same time. What are you trying to prove? How good you are? Don’t worry, I know. And if you insist - every day I’m well aware I’m only earning my pocket money in the lab. And that you’re just holding back so as not to sap my male ego.”
She could well understand him, his anger, his disappointment. But it was a unique opportunity, with the right answer, to put him in a thoroughly bad mood. If he was furious with Nadia, he was unlikely to think of mentioning the previous night and that afternoon. It was cruel, shabby, mean and nasty - it was Nadia’s way, not hers. But she managed it. She tilted her head back a little, raised one eyebrow and asked, “Do I have to remind you who financed your studies?”
His reaction was as expected, a “No” through clenched teeth. Glancing past her at the darkened screen, he went on, “One day I’m going the throw that thing out of the window. I could kick myself for having agreed to that crap. I should have known what was going to happen. Just arrange a few insurance policies and mortgages my arse. It wasn’t long before it was short-term loans for small companies, and now you’re right back in the thick of it. Hardenberg knew exactly why he wanted you. Once you’ve tasted blood there’s no holding you. But I’ve not stayed with you because I’m gambling on a fortune. I’ve stuck by you through everything because I love you, Nadia.”
She felt awful. It hurt, deep inside her something stung an extremely sensitive spot. Nadia! Of course, it was Nadia he loved. The previous night and during the last couple of hours it was Nadia he had made love to. Every kiss, every caress, every melting glance had been for Nadia. As a woman, Susanne Lasko didn’t exist for him, however good she tasted and smelled.
She dug the nails of her left hand into her palm until it hurt. “I know,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “Yes, you know, but it’s not half as important to you as your juggling with figures.”
“That’s not true.”
He waved her objection away. “Don’t keep lying to yourself. I’ll just tell you one thing: what we went through two years ago is enough for the rest of my life. If you screw up again or make a hash of things with Hardenberg, you’re on your own.” He turned round abruptly and left the room.
His words, echoing round inside her head, set her mind in a whirl. No reasonable man would call it screwing up if his wife took to the bottle because he’d been unfaithful. Stuck by you! That must have been about her drink problem, which Nadia had admitted to her. Gambling on a fortune! Juggling with figures! Short-term loans. She didn’t know what to make of it all.
She went back into the room, picked up her blouse and skirt and put on her underwear. Michael’s steps hurrying down the stairs had died away. From somewhere far off she heard violent splashing. Clearly he was working off his anger in the pool. She tidied up, put on the grey suit and checked to see if any telltale signs were left. Finally she filled the printer with paper, picked up the mobile, then the thick envelope, put in the invitation with Behringer’s logo she’d written herself, stuck it down and went to the garage.
She took her time driving to the airport. There was heavy traffic on the autobahn, and the concentration that demanded took her mind off the questions Michael’s last remarks had thrown up and off the things she’d learned in the course of the day. Despite that, as she turned off onto the airport slip road, she was afraid she’d do or say something very stupid when she met Nadia.
There were no spaces free in the short-term car park. She left the car double-parked, ran into the terminal and looked for a letter box for her thick envelope. When she came back an extremely angry driver was standing beside the Alfa. “What do you think you’re doing, leaving…”
The Lie Page 15